Autoerotic J. Austen #153
Labels
Comments
|
❗️ Don't forget to post a link to the source and the 50k+ words output when done :) |
Sign up for free
to join this conversation on GitHub.
Already have an account?
Sign in to comment
and others
Three short pieces of erotic fiction written by an RNN. We trained five generations of a model using 'Orgasmotron' erotica template, Jane Austen corpus, and The Belgian Cookbook.
Chapter 1
You are far away so I say aloud, “Your cock,” and it is as if you are suddenly and imaginatively inside my body; as if you never left. My pussy agrees that this mantra keeps passion fresh with longing for the in’s and out’s, delving and pressing. I adore how you fuck me seriously, slowly, poundingly silly. Like body odor, your rock-hardness goes away following a shower but only for a relatively short while. And that’s just the way I like it: Musky. Dirty.
“Your cock. Your cock.” I shall never tire of saying, “Your cock,” for speaking it closes the back of my throat tightly around your turgid flame like a cunt clutching and releasing, snapping closely around lengths and breadths in quick embraces. “Cock.” Like that.
I beg you: let me take you in my mouth and down the throat willingly, deeply past the gag, watching all the while your face as you grimace with the great effort of ultimate pleasure foregone for the larger pleasure of waiting for the next impulse and the next to let go finally blasting through the back of my head, gray matter and cum spewing everywhere messy and wet. For you I learned to love the pressing of your hand on my head with its, “Deeper, damnit.”
Your cock’s silk heat against any inches of my skin quivers me with terminal velocity; calls to my pussy ’til it answers forming a 220-volt arc of necessity toward the compliment of your lust.
Because vision is the entrance to your need I hold my labia and thighs apart for your eye’s embrace as you undress and am chilled with vulnerability and anticipation. Your cock is my hero of heat and hunger.
There is no cock like your precious never-ending cock that magically fills me from lips to heart and back, breaking the laws of physics every time you enter, sometimes so deep you touch the edge of my brain pan — yes — the miracle of your cock. As you slide away I cry out, for you make me greedy for fullness.
Your cock mixes the doughy sweet of my vaginal cave until I am homogenous, limpid goop and at your mercy though I never want or ask for mercy. I ask only that you always take all you want of any and every part of me, for I am, in the moments you take what you need, surrendered utterly and yours to do with as you wish, the only limit your imagination. Thankfully you are exceptionally clever.
You are gone and I miss you – my own magic bassoon upon which I play the urgent notes of love. So come to me directly — my cock, my friend — with all due speed, and at your earliest convenience. When I see you I will say, “Hel-looo! Fuck me, darling,” and hold you close between my breasts at my heart and huskily croon, “Fuck my tits this very minute you bastard,” licking your head on the up-thrusts with alternating tender and ruthless desire.
Chapter 2
“Gordon! Are you crazy?”
“Yes, but I know what I want. Please, Sandy, please let me.” He was tugging at her bikini top, pushing down her pants.
“Look, I can’t. I haven’t got my diaphragm in.” He jumped up. “I’ll get you one. What size?”
She started to laugh. “Gordon, this is insane.”
“What size?”
“Eighty. . . but I can’t. . . really. . . “
He opened a cabinet and pulled out a box. “Eighty, eighty, here’s one.” He ran to the door and locked it, ran back to her, and said, “I can make my cock dance inside of you. Just wait, you’re going to love it.” He kneeled in front of her and pulled down her bikini pants. “I’ll put this in for you, what kind of jelly do you like?”
“I don’t use jelly.”
“You use foam?”
“No, nothing.”
“You don’t use anything with your diaphragm?”
“No.”
“You have to use something. You could get pregnant without it.”
“So far I haven’t. Look Gordy, we can’t . . . somebody . . . “
“It’s all right.”
She had never been attracted to Gordon, but now he kneeled in front of her, his penis fat and inviting, sticking straight out from his black bush. As he inserted his diaphragm he whispered, “So beautiful . . . sweetest pussy . . . “And then he put his face between her legs and sniffed her cunt, actually put his nose into it and kissed it. She found herself not just aroused, but actually wanting him very much.
He rolled her over and entered her from behind, one hand squeezing her right breast, the other holding her pussy. It felt good. Very good.
“Your fucking sister won’t let me do it this way. Says it’s for animals, but we are animals, aren’t we, Sandy.”
Chapter 3
“Excuse me, do you have office hours now? I want to talk about my grade,” said Randy Mason, as he towered over his professor.
Brooke Coldwell held her own with an imposing stance and angular profile, replying, “Yes, come in — and shut the door.” Thinking of Randy’s awful paper, Brooke sighed. He was one of those helmeted athletes recruited for physical prowess who thought they could waltz through college. But Brooke’s Women’s Studies 101 required long, hard work.
“Randy, your paper clearly demonstrates your blindness to the significance of phallic imagery.”
Randy blushed. Unlike Randy, Brooke wasn’t so blind to phallic imagery; she noticed his surging thunderbolt in his football pants. He had clearly come straight from practice. “Professor,” he whined, “I really need to pass this class to keep playing ball with the guys.”
“Are guys the only ones you play ball with?” Brooke asked with a throaty chuckle as she grabbed his manhood. Surprised, Randy said, “I like this game plan, why don’t you bend over and say ‘hut’.”
“I think you have the wrong idea, Tiger,” Brooke replied. “I’m the one going long. You’re going to have to take one for the team — all ten, hard inches of it.” Brooke reached into her desk drawer and pulled out the biggest strap-on Randy had ever seen. Randy looked dumbfounded.
“You see, Randy, you have to give a little ‘A’ to get an ‘A’,” Brooke mused.”Strap it on over my pants.”
Randy obeyed, thinking that he was about to learn more from a teacher than ever before. Brooke ripped off Randy’s mesh jersey. His abs were undulating hills, with heavy underbrush around his navel. She then fumbled with the laces at his crotch, as if they were ribbons on a long-awaited present. Randy’s sex marmot yearned to escape. Taking a breath, Professor Coldwell composed herself and deftly undid the laces. Randy’s pants fell to his ankles. Not able to resist, she pulled his jockstrap down around his thighs. Her nostrils were greeted with the musky scent of his sex and youth. His mancock was long and impressive, but no match for his teacher’s silicone masterpiece. Though his hardness yearned to be stroked, that wasn’t in the lesson plan. Brooke pulled the jock strap back up and spun him around. With his pants around his ankles, Randy lost balance and fell forward, exposing his hole, palms slapping down on the desk. Positioning herself, Brooke pushed in a few inches with her silicone rod, but Randy’s greedy asshole wanted more. He let out a high-pitched sigh as Brooke continued forward, hitting his prostate. Waves of pleasure coursed through his body. Randy thought he had all he could take, but realized that she hadn’t even begun to fuck him. As she rammed in the last two inches, Randy felt enormous pain and pleasure. Professor Coldwell cruelly snapped the elastic bands on his ass cheeks and began thrusting into him with unrelenting vehemence.
“Are you going to study harder now?” panted Brooke. Randy could only grunt through gritted teeth as she shoved into him. He couldn’t take any more. Muscles clenching involuntarily, he let out a cry as an ocean of cum shot forth from his tortured tool, volley after volley drenching his jockstrap. As quickly as she had entered, Brooke withdrew. His juice escaped from his jock, creating rivulets down his thigh that dripped onto his already soiled football tights.
Randy began, ” . . . about that ‘A’? I . . . “
Brooke cut him off. “I don’t know. Come back next week, and I’ll see what I can do.”
The text was updated successfully, but these errors were encountered: